


Who Could Forget?

by ccleverr



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform, Smut, explicit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-08 22:04:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccleverr/pseuds/ccleverr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to "Don't Forget the Cream Filling" by taylorpotato</p><p>Please read that story before this or nothing will make sense.</p><p>(If you're only here for extreme, explicit smut, I suggest you move right along... to Chapter 5. That's where it's at.) ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

John had never wanked so many times in one morning in his entire life. Random moments from Sherlock's video would flash through his mind and this, mixed with the anticipation of Sherlock walking in the door at any moment, resulted in John being more turned on every time.  
Even so, every time, John would try to summon his strength- go make some tea, go read a book- but inevitably the image of two dicks up Sherlock's arse or of a cock fucking Sherlock's mouth would block out the words on the page and John would find himself half-hard again.  
Since watching the video the night before, John had slept for just under four hours, woke up at 3 AM with a bloody determined hard-on, and had wanked eight times since then.  
He glanced at his phone. 10:48. Four texts from Sherlock.

**It's nearly midday, I hadn't told you where I'd gone, and I've been gone for more than twelve hours. Usually you would have texted me out of concern by now. -SH**

  
**Your assistance would have been useful on this case, John. -SH**

  
**John, you wouldn't do well to ignore me. -SH**

  
**Just tell me what I've done wrong this time, and then you can help me with this case. -SH**

John rolled his eyes and hit the reply button. But how to respond? What would a John Watson who hadn't just seen his flatmate in a porno reply with? 

While he thought about it, John wandered over to the kitchen and leaned against the counter.

Bollocks, Sherlock. I just got out of bed. -JW

**Yes, after wanking half a dozen times. I need you. Now. -SH**

Oh God, Sherlock couldn't really have deduced that, could he?

Sherlock, I was asleep. -JW

**False. Your phone was fully charged, and I turned the ringer all the way up before I left. Furthermore, I put it on your bedside table. You never sleep on the sofa or anywhere else, so I knew you'd be sure to hear the ringer if I needed you. If you were in fact, asleep, the ringer would have woken you up. But clearly you were not in your bed, or you would have answered immediately. -SH**

_That doesn't mean I've been wanking this whole time,_ John thought bitterly. He thought about replying that, then realized Sherlock must have only been teasing John. Surely he couldn't know John had actually gotten off eight times this morning? No, he couldn't know that. 

Well, two could play the deduction game. Actually, that wasn't true. Only Sherlock could play the deduction game. And he would go on a five-hour rant if anyone ever called it a "game." Even so, John was proud of himself for thinking of a smart reply.

You must be in a cab. -JW

Sherlock never took the time to elaborate on something so trivial unless it was in prevention of boredom. 

Case done, then? -JW 

**Of course. Without your help, I might add. -SH**

**I'll be home in twenty-two minutes. -SH**

_**  
**Oh, bloody hell. I haven't been able to get this under control at any point in the last seven hours, how am I supposed to do it in twenty-two minutes?_ John thought, panicked.

The door to the flat swung open; Sherlock stood in the doorway, texting.

"You said twenty-two minutes!" John exclaimed.

"Oh. Well, I must have let my mind wander in the cab. I typed that message twenty-two minutes ago." Sherlock muttered. He looked up from his phone. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No, I just..." John had no excuse.

"You saw the video," Sherlock said matter of factly, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"What?!" His heart stopped. "Uhm, uh- what video?"

Sherlock took a deep breath. "Rather than go through all the tedious nonsense of forgetting what you saw and living together with a sense of unresolved tension and plain awkwardness between us, I suggest you leave Baker Street, Doctor Watson."

"No, Sherlock, listen. I am so, sorry, all right? I'll forget the whole thing, I swear."

"Will you really? Somehow I don't think that's the case," Sherlock's voice was dripping with venom. "This dent in our relationship will only hind progress in my work, and I can not have that."

"Sherlock, look, I admit it's my fault, all right?"

"It's _your_ bloody fault? Do not attempt to sacrifice your humility to salvage something that is lost."

"Salvage... what? Sherlock, do you mean our friendship? Listen to me. Neither of us is going to leave. Not right now. We need to talk about what happened."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "You want to _talk._ How pedestrian."

John nodded firmly, decidedly not breaking his gaze.

"Fine." And then Sherlock launched into it before John had a chance to stop him. "It started in uni; my parents thought I was gay and cut me off from any monetary support they had previously given to me. Of course, I am asexual and was a virgin then, but you know how rumors fly. I had no money and I still had a year of university left. I suppose I started auditioning for pornos to spite my parents and anyone else who believed I was gay."

"Okay. Sherlock. Stop." John couldn't hear anymore. He knew whatever came next could not be good. He did not want to know these things about his best friend.

Sherlock ignored him. "But I wasn't attracted to men, obviously. I started getting high to get through shooting the videos. The video you saw was my breaking point, I have to admit. I nearly OD'd. I blacked out after the crew packed up for the day and left, and when Mycroft found me, he put me in rehab." 

Sherlock stopped talking. John stopped looking at him. He stared at his hands, clenching a kitchen chair, and took a few deep breaths.

"You have questions."

"No. No, Sherlock, I don't. I just feel like a bloody moron for not knowing any of this about you. This is more than me just watching that stupid video."

"No, it isn't. You're trying to make it more so as to seem as though there's a way for us to continue on as normal-"

"Sherlock, there is! We can fix this!"

"Oh, really? All right. We can fix this. We have a couple options, I suppose. One- we do whatever you want. Obviously, a form of closure is needed. You fuck me, I give you a blow job, fingering, whatever-"

"No. Stop. Sherlock," John's voice wavered, his cheeks reddened. Hearing a 20-something Sherlock talking dirty was one thing; to hear his Sherlock- _his best friend-_ say these things was quite another.

"-and then you leave. You never have to see me again."

"Sherlock."

"Two. We avoid seeing each other for a couple weeks-"

"What-" John began.

"-assuming that upon our reunion, you will see more clearly the necessity of your departure."

"That's it? No." John frowned. Sherlock's phone beeped, and suddenly he was out the door.

Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John breathed an audible sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. Panic overwhelmed him almost immediately as he realized he may have just accidentally admitted to Sherlock Holmes that he was amenable to having sex with him.

Sherlock, you're not going to stay out all night again, are you? -JW

I'm really sorry. I feel absolutely ashamed and disgusted with myself. -JW

I am the scum of the Earth. Please forgive me. -JW

After two hours, there was still no reply. By then it was nearing one in the afternoon; John hadn't done much of anything all day except wander to the sitting room. Wander to the kitchen. Wander to the sitting room. 

 _What if Sherlock never returned?_ But Sherlock had made it sound like John's disappearance was the only solution. 

Sherlock. You never let me choose between your options. -JW

  
This text was immediately followed by: And I know you're not actually at a crime scene; you always reply to my texts when you're deducing so I'll shut up and let you be. Remember? -JW

Truthfully, John knew that Sherlock could very well be at a crime scene. He just preferred to believe that Sherlock was giving him the cold shoulder, which would indicate some form of emotion at least.  


A response, finally: **I'll be at Baker Street shortly. -SH**

 **  
**John breathed an audible sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. Panic overwhelmed him almost immediately as he realized he may have just accidentally admitted to Sherlock Holmes that he was amenable to having sex with him.


	3. Chapter 3

The door swung open slowly to reveal the tall detective, occupied with his phone, standing in the doorway.

Without looking up, Sherlock asked, "Your bedroom or mine?"

"Neither." John had to play this safe. He slowly took small steps towards his flatmate; Sherlock didn't move, not even when John got right up next to him, reached behind him, and locked the door to the flat. He worked himself in the gap between Sherlock and the door, so Sherlock was forced to move farther into the flat.

"Sherlock, listen to me, and listen carefully. Here's everything: I've fantasized about- umm... having a sexual relationship-"

Oh fuck, his cheeks burned. He had to do this, though. John didn't know by what insanity he thought this was a good idea, but he just knew it had to all come out.

"-with you.. since only knowing you for less than a month. Sherlock, I'm not gay. Although- but, fuck, I mean, I'm sure you knew that. Anyway. All that was before I saw the video. Sherlock, you're my best friend, and quite frankly, one of my only friends. The only one that, um, remembers me and involves me in his life, and, well... yes. So. I was quite content spending the rest of my life here in this flat with my best friend. I know, well, I know you probably know this, too, with all we've been through together, but- um, yes. Um, I wouldn't have been averse to spending the rest of my life with you. Not sure how that one came about, really, but it's the truth. And then that stupid video had to shove itself into everything, and... Fuck, Sherlock. If I could go back in time..." John massaged his forehead.

"You can't."

"Really? Wow, thanks for clarifying that for me, Sherlock. Really? I've just told you all this, and you have nothing else to say?"

"Of course not. I don't believe you." Sherlock responded dismissively.

"What? Why would I lie about this? This is humiliating for me!"

"No, this is not. Humiliating would be wanking off to the video in front of me when you're lying about having any attraction to me."

"Sherlock. I am so outstandingly attracted to you, but I am not wanking in front of you." John frowned and put his hands on his hips.

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow.

"Why not? It would serve a dual purpose, after all. Force you to admit your motive and provide some closure to this whole situation."

"My motive for admitting attraction to you is that I've spent two bloody years hiding the fact that I want to fuck your brains out!" John shouted. He hardly cared what came out of his mouth anymore; nothing could make him feel worse than he was feeling now. John took a deep breath."Fuck. I don't need closure, I need therapy."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, and immediately strode over to his laptop, flipping it open and rapidly typing in an address. Sound immediately projected from the speakers, chucking a pit into John's stomach and making him feel incredibly nauseous.

"Nice one, Frankie. Where'd you find a hot little slut-"

"STOP THAT THIS MOMENT, SHERLOCK!" John roared before the voice could even finish speaking.

The sound was silenced and Sherlock gazed up at John, looking perplexed.

"You're angry. You're not embarrassed." Sherlock furrowed his brow, looking like a small child facing a difficult maths problem. "You're angry... with me?"

"I'm fucking angry with _myself_ , Sherlock, and I don't need you dragging all that back up! It's not closure, it's torture!" John was borderline hysterical now, throwing his arms all over the place above his head.

"What's torture?" Sherlock asked quickly, quietly.

"Knowing that _now_ I will never, ever in a million years have a chance with you, ever! This isn't how we were supposed to end!"

Sherlock stumbled backwards and fell onto the sofa. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'. I'm really fucked." John crouched on the floor, digging the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. 

"Not yet, you're not."

"What the fuck, Sherlock?" John knew Sherlock's reply couldn't have been intentional. Surely Sherlock missed his Freudian slip. 

"Well, not by me, at least."

"I don't understand."

"I would like to fuck you, John Watson."


	4. Chapter 4

"I don't understand." There he was repeating himself, oh how Sherlock adored that. John didn't care. He had just admitted to his flatmate that he wanted very badly to shag his brains out.

And his flatmate had reciprocated the intent.

 _Flatmate_ was such an odd term when it came to Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. They had never been _flatmates._  From day one, they had been saviors to each other. Then companions. Then best friends. They were the best thing each other had in their lives. 

And then, that video. Fuck, John hated that video.

"You're asexual, Sherlock. Now I know you're the one lying."

"It's always been a theory of mine that there are negative numbers to the Kinsey scale; just as I have come to acknowledge that perhaps you are not a perfect zero, I believe I am not a perfect negative ten, asexual. I have never been attracted to anyone before, neither romantically nor sexually."

"Until," John cut himself off with a breath. He was having trouble breathing after all, and who wouldn't? "Now?"

"Yes," Sherlock drawled, narrowing his eyes. His gaze was intimidating, but John had long-since learned to find the emotion past the eyes; Sherlock looked questioning and uncertain, beyond intimidating.

"I can't have sex with you."

"Don't be ridiculous, John. You and I both have expressed our desire for sexual intercourse with each other-"

"Stop, Sherlock." John pressed his fingers to his brow. 

"You demanded that we talk this out. What is preventing you from taking what you want from me?"

"It's just that, Sherlock. Taking what I want from you? I want you to be happy. That's how this whole mess started in the first place. If I had kept the Sherlock I know in my mind, I never would have continued watching that video-"

"Yes, you would have. Those videos- well, the best ones- are designed to keep you hooked."

"Sherlock, I should be stronger than that. I love-"

There was a vast pause; Sherlock looked confused for a moment before his eyes widened in delayed realization.

"You- what?" 

"Fuck, Sherlock! See how I bugger things up?! What am I supposed to do?"

"Sit down."

John moved slowly to the chair opposite Sherlock, but Sherlock stopped him silently, grabbing his wrist and pulling him gently down to sit beside him. Sherlock didn't look at John.

Sherlock stared straight ahead as he continued with an unnaturally clinical voice. "Complete your thought, John."

"I love you."

"Oh," Sherlock breathed. "You're certain?"

"Of course, you nutter."

"Oh." Sherlock scrunched his brow. 

John shrugged. Love hardly seemed to matter when everything else was utterly decimated.

Finally, Sherlock turned to face his flatmate. "John, I haven't had sex in fifteen years. I haven't ever wanted sex, ever in my life. But I do now. Please."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I wasn't able to fix everything. We were supposed to fall in love together and our relationship would fall into place."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows; he looked down and whispered, his words barely audible. "I love you."

"Excuse me?"

Sherlock's eyes rose to meet John's.

John let the words sink in. "No, you don't."

"I do," Sherlock said, louder. "And you were right, you know. This is more than that stupid video, which we'll both promise to forget, all right?"

John couldn't help but smile. He nodded. 

And then Sherlock kissed him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise there will be smut to follow. I'm thinking I'll leave it at 5 chapters, and that'll be that. Please let me know if this is any good! I'm very self-conscious when it comes to writing smut, so if no one is even reading this I probably won't even bother.
> 
> JUST KIDDING I'VE ALREADY WRITTEN THE SMUT SO STICK AROUND


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE IT IS I WROTE LOTS OF SMUT FOR YOU GUYS BE HAPPY

The kiss was incredibly chaste; just a gentle press, but it was held there for a few moments before John pressed a hand against Sherlock's chest- not to push away, but to feel the taller man's heartbeat, faster than his own. 

Neither of the men pulled away, but John's lips moved down to Sherlock's neck.

"Mm-" Sherlock's moan was cut short by inability to breathe properly. "I'm surprisingly pleased you saw that video, John."

John was almost too distracted by Sherlock's rumbling baritone voice to notice what he just said, and when he did, he pulled away. "No."

"Yes," Sherlock smirked; John noticed the pink flush covering his pale skin. "Neither of us would have made the first move before."

"Shut up," John growled, drawing his flatmate in for a firmer kiss this time. Sherlock, in return, gave a low growl that went straight to John's cock.

"I need you," John muttered against his flatmates lips. And then he froze, a million thoughts flying through his brain in about two seconds. _Fuck, where did those words come from? J_ ohn didn't have time to be too embarrassed, though, because suddenly Sherlock was on John, pinning him against the couch, his lips continuing to attack John's, his tongue wrestling and tangling against his, and John was suddenly completely, agonizingly, hard. 

And when John finally remembered to open his eyes, it was his turn to groan, the noise escaping him as soon as his eyes locked with Sherlock's, poised gracefully above him.

"What do you need, John?" Sherlock murmured.

" _You._ You," John persisted, pressing his lips to Sherlock's in affirmation. "What do you need, Sherlock?"

Sherlock gave a sly grin. He pressed his hips flush against John's, their erections touching through layers of cloth as Sherlock began a slow, continuous grind. Each word held it's own place as Sherlock responded, " _To. Fuck. You._ "

"Oh, God, yes," John breathed, rutting up against the taller man in reciprocation.

"Wait," Sherlock stopped suddenly, pulling away. "This has to last."

"What? No, Sherlock. _This_ has been building up for ages. Let's take the edge off; we have all the time in the world after that."

Sherlock stood up beside the couch, holding each of John's hands in his own and helping him up to a sitting position. Then Sherlock knelt, staring pleadingly into John's eyes.

"John, I have waited for this for far longer than you have, I assure you. I will not mess this up. Please, I beg of you. Please let us take this slow."

John nodded, mesmorized. "All right, Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded, then pressed his lips to John's again. He grabbed John by the arms and pulled him up to standing. Sherlock's hands rested on John, one on his hip and the other behind his neck while their lips slowly slid and tugged against each other. Slowly, the hand behind John's neck crept down to John's lower back, and Sherlock pulled their bodies tight against each other, their cocks rubbing none too gently, taking John completely by surprise.

He suppressed the urge to moan and instead summoned all the strength he had to pull away.

"Jesus, Sherlock. We don't even have our clothes off and I'm about to come in my pants."

Sherlock nodded at him slowly with a ghost expression of suppressed anguish, clearly more affected by his spontaneous actions than John had been. A sheen of sweat dusted his skin; Sherlock turned away from John, rubbing his face quickly with one hand. 

John watched Sherlock's back as he took two deep breaths, in, out, in, out. And then Sherlock whirled around and took John in his arms and pulled him into a deep kiss. 

"Mm, Sherlock," John muttered warningly. Sherlock lowered himself to the coffee table behind him, taking John with him, arranging the shorter man to sit on his thighs. Sherlock's lips never once left John's as he slowly began undoing the buttons on John's shirt. As Sherlock's fingers went lower and lower, so did his lips, moving slowly to suckle underneath John's chin, then pressing small, quick kisses to his neck, then bruisingly forceful kisses along his collar bone. By the time Sherlock was working on the last button, he was simply just nuzzling into the soft skin of John's neck. 

As Sherlock flicked John's shirt open to reveal a gloriously bare chest, his fingers brushed John's painfully hard erection. 

John angrily shoved Sherlock and his hands away; Sherlock's eyes shot up quizzically, finding John starting up at the ceiling, breathing hard. 

Without meeting Sherlock's eyes, John's hand trailed down Sherlock's chest and found his belt, slowly pulling it off. 

"Look at me, John," Sherlock murmured. John locked eyes just as his hand reached Sherlock's crotch. Now it was Sherlock's turn to look away, his head falling back as John palmed above his still-clothed shaft twice, then moved to stroke underneath. 

"John," Sherlock whimpered, biting his lip.

John glared down at him. "You want to make this last, but I also get the impression that you want to fuck me into the wall. Make up your mind."

"Do I have to?" Sherlock complained. He sighed contentedly as John redoubled his efforts. John's fingers quickly undid Sherlock's trousers and he slid his hand past the waistband of Sherlock's pants, gripping his cock firmly and without hesitation. 

"Ah- _ah_ , John," Sherlock gasped.

As John's fingers worked his shaft, Sherlock began... talking. "The nerve endings on a phallus of a man starting at the average age of fifteen-"

"Sherlock?" John stopped touching his flatmate.

"-are the most sensistive out of any in the body-"

"Sherlock."

"-after adequate pressure has been put upon it-"

"All right, Wikipedia-"

"-resulting in an extreme release of energy known as an orgasm."

John clasped his entire hand over Sherlock's mouth then. "Why do I get the feeling you haven't realized you're saying any of this out loud?"

Sherlock didn't speak and he didn't look at John, but he didn't attempt to keep talking. Instead, his breath on John's hand grew faster and more intense. 

"Sherlock, what's the matter?" John opted to remove his hand.

"I'm having a panic attack," Sherlock announced.

 

John leaned back a couple inches, giving Sherlock space, not wanting to overcrowd him at this moment.

"I don't want to mess this up, John," Sherlock explained for the second time. "I've never done this before."

What? What was _that_ supposed to mean? There was at least one video that proved that gay sex was definitely something Sherlock _had_ done before.

"Uhm, Sherlock. Shouldn't I be the one saying that?"

Sherlock's eyes met John's, looking relieved. "You've never had sex with someone you're madly in love with, either?"

John breathed a sigh of understanding, admiring the expression of absolute innocence on Sherlock's face. John smiled. "No, no, that'll be a first for both us then, won't it?"

And he meant it wholeheartedly. He leaned in slowly and kissed Sherlock gently, a kiss that had nothing to do with sex.

Then, before either of them could process another thought, Sherlock had risen, pulling John's legs around his waist as he stood, and locked lips messily, his tongue delving deep into John's throat. And John didn't even mind. He didn't really need to breathe anyway.

Sherlock took two strides and slammed John's back up against the wall, his lips never ceasing in their quest for more, more, _more_ of John. He began thrusting up against John ferverishly. "I want to be inside you. Please."

"Sherlock- yes, okay- but Sherlock-" John tried to get a word in edge-wise, but finally gave up. His own jeans and pants were still on, after all, but surely Sherlock had deduced that. 

"These blasted trousers!" Sherlock suddenly shouted, and John very nearly burst out laughing. 

"Yes, let me down, all right?" John politely suggested. 

Sherlock growled and gently released his flatmate, then took a step away and blinked at the ceiling.

"Little help would make this go faster, you know," John said, his fingers fumbling with the zipper. Sherlock shook his head quickly, still staring at the ceiling. John took that as a cue to take his sweet time. He steadied his breathing and stripped himself completely naked.

Sherlock still had his trousers and shirt on- although both were open- and John didn't think that was fair. He prompted Sherlock, "Your turn."

Sherlock quickly shed what clothes remained and returned to John, lifting him up once more and slamming his naked against the wall, his hips grinding against John's slowly. John moaned loud and low, his voice embarrassingly filling the room. A long, thin finger slid between John's legs and traced his tight hole before finding its way inside, slowly creeping forward until Sherlock had his whole finger inside. John hissed a release of tension, and then Sherlock slid his finger out gently and immediately worked on adding a second. 

"Oh, ga- fuck, Sherlock," John muttered as Sherlock's fingers stretched to dance around his prostate, intentionally not touching it, but only teasing and stretching his hole wider.

Neither one of the men could be bothered with kissing now, even if they wanted to. John tried with all his might not to come with Sherlock's fingers up his arse, and the madman's entire body pinning him to the wall. Sherlock kept his fingers moving about the inside of John, cataloguing every reaction to the best of his ability. 

When Sherlock was satisfied with his results, he pulled both fingers out slowly and returned with three fingers against John's arsehole. 

"No," John warned. "Mm, too much. We're going to need lubrication, Sherlock."

Sherlock smirked and slid his hand out from behind John to reveal a small bottle of lube. "Was in my trousers pocket."

A few moments later, he was ready to stretch John open, slowly pressing all three fingers deeper and deeper into John, who let his head fall back against the wall, his legs trembling and his hips rolling subtly against the intrusion. 

"All right," Sherlock announced. "Remember, this has to last. Tell me immediately if you're too close."

He slid his fingers out gingerly. "Condom?"

John shook his head. They both knew that wouldn't be necessary. No more delays. Sherlock's arm slid around John again and tightened as he brought his other hand to grasp his own cock, pinching it slightly at the base as he pressed into John so he wouldn't immediately come. John's eyes rolled back and his legs, still wrapped around Sherlock's waist, jerked uncontrollably as Sherlock slid his cock further up inside John. 

"Oh, nngh, Shh-" John attempted to form words, but it was impossible. Finally, Sherlock was completely inside John and he waited. 

"Oh, _fuck_ , Sherlock. Fuck." John breathed, then nodded, trying and failing to properly meet Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock gave a small smile and thrust upwards gently, hitting John's prostate on the first attempt. 

John cried out and incidentally scraped his fingernails across Sherlock's back in unintentional retaliation. "Ohh, you bloody genius. I thought the idea was for me to not get off right away?"

Sherlock stilled and waited for John's next words. 

John sighed, too tempted to feel again the thing that Sherlock just made him feel. 

"Just..." There was nothing. He wanted it all. "All right. All right, fuck me."

Sherlock grinned and pushed hard and deep inside of John, setting a rhythm, pounding John against the wall methodically. Every thrust drew a moan from John, who kept his head back against the wall. He wasn't going to make the mistake of looking at Sherlock now.

Sherlock was very diligent in not deviating from the pace, but John knew he could handle more. He _needed_ more. 

"Faster, Sherlock. Fuck me _faster_." 

Sherlock growled, sending bolts of energy to John's leaking prick as he sped up the pace, his thrusts becoming shall, his aching cock very nearly sliding out completely a couple times. 

"John. So good. So _tight_ ," Sherlock grunted.

"Harder, Sherlock. Deeper, please, Sherlock. _Fuck me_."

"John!" Sherlock shouted angrily as he hammered into John deeper yet, pulling back only slightly every time before pounding back at John's prostate. John's mouth fell open, and Sherlock smirked. "Good?"

John finally looked down into Sherlock's eyes and drew his lips into a deep, slow-burning kiss. Surprisingly, Sherlock's new intense pace didn't falter for an instant. Sherlock fucked John through the kiss; they broke apart to breathe, and then the kiss continued, as fast and messy as the pace at which Sherlock was continually fucking John.

They kissed again, mostly just sweaty breathing against each other, and somehow it was one of the hottest things John had ever been involved in. 

After about four and a half seconds, however, John had to tear himself out of the kiss.

"Close."

Sherlock pounded into John twice more before the words even began to register. 

"Close, Sherlock. I'm fucking close!"

When the words finally did reach Sherlock, his eyes widened and he pressed two fingers in an iron grip on John's cock, near the base.

"Ah," John gave a low, strangled cry. "Ta. How are you holding it together?"

Sherlock shook his head vigorously, and it occurred to John that Sherlock hadn't spoken in a few minutes. 

"It's okay, Sherlock." John pulled Sherlock close to him and tried to steady both of their breathing. "Are you good?"

Sherlock nodded wordlessly, giving John a pleading gaze.

"I'm so ready for this," John assured his flatmate. "Go ahead, it'll feel great."

Sherlock nodded and directed his cock up to John's prostate again, a slow, deep thrust.

"Nngh," Sherlock grunted, his face contorted in agony, clearly having a difficult time holding John up while fucking him so vigorously.

"Here, let me make this easier for you," John said, and he slid his legs down so his feet landed on the ground, careful not to let Sherlock slide out of him. Sherlock adjusted his stance to John's height and braced himself with an arm on either side of John. The two men immediately went back to their original fast, hammering pace, and John's hands fell, stretching out at his sides, scrabbling at the wall behind him for something to grab onto. 

"Sher- Sherlock. Fuck. Touch me, touch me. I need this."

Sherlock's frantic eyes found John's cock and he removed one hand from the wall to begin pumping John's cock in time with every pound against his oversensitive prostate. John's legs trembled uncontrollably, the backs of his knees knocking the wall behind him as he neared the end. 

" _Jesus_ , Sherlock! Fuck me, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh god, fuck me-" John shouted with every one of Sherlock's deep, tight thrusts.

 

Sherlock's movements got messier as he worked to bring John off.

"Fuck me harder, faster, ha- _ahh_ -ah! Sherlock! _Sherlock!"_ John screamed as his orgasm suddenly hit. John pulled Sherlock tight against him, his inner muscles tighetning around Sherlock's leaking cock, and suddenly Sherlock's orgasm hit him, too. Sherlock sloppily pressed an open mouth to John's gaping lips as he thrusted his cock into John a few more times, riding out his orgasm, his cock pulsing deep inside John.

By the time John's orgasm passed, Sherlock's was still slow-burning, his cock softening only slightly. Sherlock bit his lip and messily thrust up into John again, again, again, the arm around John's waist only getting tighter.

"Ah," Sherlock gasped shortly, his cock finally stilling inside John, too sensitive now to do anything else.

Neither of the men pulled away; both of them breathing hard, cool air against their partner's back. 

"I can't wait... to do that again," John sighed, his face relaxing into a smile. 

"I can't say I disagree," Sherlock responded, his voice sounding unbelievably steady and controlled, "but let me get my cock out of you first."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE let me know if there are ANY mistakes- it took me about three (really horny) days for me to write this, and then on the day I got an aura migraine, I decided to type it all up here... so I'm afraid I've made a lot of mistakes. Feel free to get picky!


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